


Waiting Game

by Shally



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: A drabble about limbo, Character Death, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 15:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11188035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shally/pseuds/Shally
Summary: No one told you that death tasted like cyanide and vanilla





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> Sad to see them go...has hxh spoilers

No one told you that death tasted like cyanide and vanilla. 

That there was always the feeling of being a floating entity while also having your feet nailed firmly to the ground. 

Death had always seemed like a dark, gloomy, hellish thing, and the afterlife a place that sucked your soul in a drowned you in misery. It wasn’t like that. Some would complain it was too bright. That the sound of white noise seared their eardrums, or the taste was almost metallic. It really depended on who you were, how you died. Some weren’t as lucky to taste blood; some people only had the pleasure of tasting dirt. 

Old aches and pains would linger in the afterlife, scars of where something must have penetrated, or gaping holes where they had lost parts of themselves when they were living, breathing entities. Unbearable for most, a mere hindrance for others who only knew pain. 

If you were lucky, and your bonds on earth strong enough, like minded souls would collect in this bleak, cream coloured, fog hazed world, and from being one lone soul, they would eventually become a duo. 

Pakunoda had been the first to learn about how gut wrenching it was too forget all the different colours, her eyes well accustomed to the thousands of shades of white that had kissed her skin for what felt like years until Uvogin had appeared. 

His soul had been red hot, and his body worn out with new scars. Like all things in this bleak and bleary universe, wounds healed but the pain didn’t. It only became more bearable until it was a slight ebbing underneath his skin. A tightness of the heart. An embrace that was too tight before letting go. 

There was nothing here, no items, no clothes, no spaces to wander, no food to eat, nothing to take the taste of death from one’s mouth. And once acceptance became the only option, waiting for something to happen was the next thing to do.

For a long time Pakunoda and Uvogin sat in silence, ones to reflect on their mistakes, their efforts, their dreams and goals. On the people they loved. Together they helped put their pieces in place. So they would not forget who they were or what they had been. 

They realized quickly that they were waiting for other missing legs. That the spider was on it’s way to an eternal winter, slowly dying. Slowly being targeted by what was called life, and fate, and disaster. 

Nothing had felt real until Shalnark and Kortopi had died, their twin souls crashing into what seemed to be cotton earth as they gasped and spluttered for air, their bodies chilled with death and warmed with their fury. 

To be killed was one thing. To be backstabbed by someone they knew would backstab them had caused an explosion to go off in Shal’s mind. His ego was as bruised as his organs, and even as his arms lay by his side, no longer strung up like a brainless doll, he was unable to let the past go. 

Kortopi had simply held his own throat, and refused to release it, afraid that he would find himself headless once again. 

Uvogin had been the first to find the newly deceased, and clutched onto them so tightly that there was no room for the awkwardness of his, or any of their nakedness, but only time to consider that yes this was hell, and yes, they were killed, and yes it was as terrible as they had ever imagined it.

“I can’t believe you’re dead.” Uvo had gasped out, eyeing the blood that painted Shalnark’s torso red. He took in the swollen and broken jaw, the ruptured blood vessels, the broken teeth. Uvo knew that they would be healed. That they would be fixed. It would take time, but all they had now was time. 

It would be harder to let a grudge die. And the spiders were not forgiving types, not even in the slightest. 

It was only a matter of time until the next member of their group joined, each hoping that the troupe member they had been closest too would live as long as they could before rejoining the others. 

For now, death was a waiting game 

That no one wanted to bet on 


End file.
